A Single Red Rose
by NonExistentSoul
Summary: It all started with a single red rose. Punk!Kageyama Pastel!Hinata Non-binary!Hinata? KageyamaXHinata TEMPORARILY ON HOLD!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: It all started with a single red rose. Punk!Kageyama Pastel!Hinata. KageyamaXHinata**

 **This will be multi-chapter and contains slash. This is inspired and dedicated to acekagechan, who posted the prompt that got me writing this story! Enjoy!**

He's pretty sure he knows what to expect from Karasuno High. This would be his second high school, his sixth school in total, and so far they'd all pretty much been the same. He'd long since memorized the unspoken rules and expectations that all schools seemed to follow. But memorizing and following are two completely different things.

He's very much aware that his mere presence in the school is probably breaking half of those rules but to be honest he really doesn't care. If he wanted to smoke behind one of the club rooms, then he'd smoke behind one of the club rooms, simple as that.

He's also aware that his appearance stands out and is probably breaking a whole other list of rules. His ears are both pierced multiple times and his left eyebrow is pierced twice. His tattoos are mostly hidden by his uniform except for the one on his neck that peeks over the edge of his collar.

He's not going to make friends; he isn't even going to bother to try. People just naturally shy away from him, he's not sure if it's his appearance, the harsh glare that seems to be permanently glued to his face or his anti-social personality.

When he was younger he used to try. He'd force himself out of his comfort zone and approach the friendliest looking group of people he could find. Without fail they'd turn him away, some quicker than others, saying that he was too rude or self-centred. He used to search desperately for someone who would just look underneath his cold exterior and get to know him, the real him.

Looking back at how he'd behaved he couldn't help but sneer at pathetically he'd acted. People just didn't like him, it was a fact he'd long since accepted. He didn't need anyone else; he was perfectly fine by himself.

Sneering probably wasn't a good idea because the students, who had seemed to have come to a silent agreement to not get within a three meter distance of him, shrunk away even further. He probably would have laughed if it wasn't so damn depressing.

Instead he just soldiered on, purposely ignoring the whispers and stares that were directed his way. He was five minutes late to class but aside from a reproaching glare the teacher seemed to decide to let him off the hook this once. He was a new student after all.

His desk was next to the window, which was good because now he had something to do other than draw in the borders of his book during class. It wasn't till he'd put his bag on the hook and sat down that he noticed _it_.

A rose.

A single red rose lay innocently on the middle of his desk.

What the hell? Who would put a flower on his desk? It was probably a mistake. Yeah, it was a mistake; someone had just put it on the wrong desk. It was probably meant for someone else. And yet he found himself unable brush it of the desk and onto the floor.

So instead he gingerly picked it up, as if afraid his very touch would cause it to break, and gently placed it on the windowsill. It was a rather pretty flower, and whenever he tried to concentrate on anything else he felt his eyes drawn back to it.

He couldn't help but entertain the idea that the rose for him, or rather the new student. If that was true whoever had placed it on his desk would probably regret it when they actually saw him. They'd probably been expecting a giggly girl or the clique 'princely' type of guy.

Whoever left it would be disappointed when they actually saw him. It shouldn't bother him; he was used to being a disappointment.

So when the bell rang, signalling the end of class, he scooped his bag up and walked out of class as fast as he could. It was pretty much a habit to make his way up to the roof. He was surprised to find it empty, but now that he thought about it it was cold out and looked like it was going to rain, so maybe it wasn't so surprising.

He hadn't brought anything to eat but he pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and quickly lit it. Smoke filled his lungs and he relished in the feeling. Pausing for a moment he found his thoughts dragged back to the flower that he'd left on the window sill.

You couldn't really blame him. It was the most interesting thing to happen to him all day.

Halfway through his cigarette the bell rang again. Letting out a sigh he snubbed his cigarette out with the heel of his foot before making his way back to the classroom.

He was a couple of feet away from his desk when he saw something that made him freeze. The single flower from before was no longer alone. Someone had braided it into a flower crown. Each flower was a different colour.

There didn't seem to be a pattern to the chaos that was the flower crown, but it was vibrant and eye-catching. And just like before he found himself unable to brush it to the floor. Had someone made him a flower crown? Had they seen him? Had they heard the rumours that were no doubt already circulating about him? Did they not care?

He did his best to ignore it for the rest of the day, but it was difficult. If flowers could have presences these ones would be looming and ever present. But that didn't stop him from carefully placing it in his bag and taking it home with him. After he made sure nobody was looking, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

**First things first, the cover art belongs to the amazing Dreaming of Ferrets, aka ryanallen18. Thank you so much, I love it! Secondly, updates will undoubtedly slow down, as they have for my other stories. You will soon learn (unless you already know) that I am a lazy ass procrastinator. But I will always update, it just might take a while. Enjoy!**

 **Warnings: Slight mention of an oc, ooc behaviour. I DONT OWN HAIKYUU!**

The flower crown, which ends up hanging from the doorknob of his bedroom door, brings a tiny spark of colour to his otherwise empty apartment, a spark he didn't even realise was missing till now.

It probably had something to do with the fact that his room was so sparsely furnished. The money his parents sent over monthly was just barely enough to pay the rent and keep him fed. All his furniture was second hand and in various states of wear and tare. If he wanted to splurge on something new, he'd have to cut back on how much food he ate.

And people thought he was naturally this thin. Pfft.

Kageyama was a failure child. He didn't have good grades, he wasn't charming or well mannered (quite the opposite actually) When he was younger the only thing he was good at had been volleyball. His parent's hadn't been impressed.

Then Aito was born and Kageyama found himself being pushed to the side. He hadn't seen his parents in over a year. He could tell that they were doing their best to forget him, he couldn't really blame them for doing so. But at the same time he hated them for it.

Shoving those thoughts to the side he started to pull on his school uniform. He was supposed to be starting in a club today and he was already toying with the idea of skipping. But it was volleyball, the one thing that had made him feel alive. Volleyball had allowed him to escape the weight of his parent's expectations and disappointments, even if only for a short while.

When he was younger he'd often boast that he'd become a famous volleyball player one day and make his parents proud. He'd long since given up on doing so, no longer even saw the appeal in it. He found himself torn. For him volleyball held so many memories, both the good and the bad.

It was kinda ironic. He hadn't even been allowed to choose the club that he'd be joining. The school had done so for him; it had been part of the agreement of them allowing him to attend. Of course they'd end up choosing the one that brought up all sorts of memories.

He'd just skip, problem solved.

He walks to school with that sentence circling his mind. He'd just skip, no fuss, he doesn't have to go. It became like a silent mantra in his head.

There aren't any flowers waiting for him today, but he didn't really expect there to be. The day stretches on and he doesn't bother paying full attention to the teachings of the class.

When the bell finally rings signalling the end of school he finds himself lingering in the school grounds. He doesn't want to go back to the apartment, all that's waiting for him there is bare walls and silence. But he's not sure if he wants to go to the club either.

He ends up leaning against some random ass tree and smoking one of his precious cigarettes. He only has a few left in this packet. He'll have to buy some more later. He's still wondering if he should bother showing up for the last half of the club practice when someone calling out his name pulled him from his thoughts.

He turns to look in the direction that the voice is coming from. He is met with the sight of a person with a messy mop of bright orange hair. Their eyes gleamed in excitement and they were waving their arms around at him like an idiot. They had a simple white shirt on paired with a black sport skirt that fell mid thigh and a pair of scruffy pink sneakers.

Kageyama honestly had no idea what gender they were, what they identified as, so until he had figured it out or dragged enough courage to ask them himself he decided to just refer to them neutrally. At his previous schools he'd known of people who were trans, neutral, or just didn't care about gender norms. They were rare, or at least the ones that were out or open about it were, but he wasn't one to judge.

He could remember sneaking into his mothers room one day and trying to put on some of her make up. He'd gotten lipstick all over his face and had ended up looking like a clown. His mother had not been happy when she had found him with a pair of clip on earrings dangling from his ears and makeup messily applied to his face.

It wasn't because he had wanted to be a girl. He had just thought it was pretty. His mother had thoroughly explained that makeup, jewelry, skirts and dresses were for girls and that since he was a boy under no circumstances was he allowed to wear such things. It was an opinion that she had drilled into his head over the years he had lived with his parents.

He'd lashed out a few times when he had first seen men wearing jewelry or makeup, called them freaks. He regretted it a lot now and wished that he could go back and apologise. Now all he felt was a stirring of jealousy, which he had figured out was the reason that he had been lashing out. He wondered what kind of life this person had lived to be so confident about who they were.

They probably had friends and maybe family that accepted and supported them. Lucky bustard. He wondered what his life would have been like if his parents had accepted him. It wasn't something he wanted to dwell on.

Focussing back on the person he waved at them to acknowledge that he'd heard them. Their smile, if it was possible, seemed to brighten. Their cheeks were flushed slightly, probably from running all the way to find him. From almost nowhere the thought that they were cute crossed his mind. He brushed said thought away quickly.

There was no way they'd even want to be friends with him when they realised how unintentionally intimidating he could be.

He idly wondered what they wanted with him. Maybe they were in the volleyball club. They came to a stumbling stop in front of him.

"You're Kageyama-kun right? Why aren't you at the volleyball club? Did you get lost? Here I'll show you the way."

He didn't even get a chance to answer the flood of question before the excitable ginger, he still didn't know their name, grabbed his hand and started dragging him away.


End file.
